


Tastes like Heaven

by Butterbaby_Flapjack



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Akira doesn't care who watches, Akira has a heart hidden in there somewhere, Akira is kinda an asshole, Biting, Blood Kink, Blood Orgy, Broom closet debauchery, Demon Sex, Demon cocks, Demonic Fluff, Demonic Possession, Demonic cunnilingus, Demons, Devilman Crybaby, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Exophilia, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forehead tentacles, Hate Sex, Lust-fueled & blood-drunk club fucking, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Obsessive Behavior, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Public Sex, Reader is a sassy little shit, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Slow Burn, You better not be expelled for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29967834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butterbaby_Flapjack/pseuds/Butterbaby_Flapjack
Summary: (  Reader x Akira  )You and Akira absolutely hate each other - he wasn’t always a jerk, but he sure as hell is now - and you probably should have kept on avoiding him like a plague. But after accidentally kissing him, and then accidentally kissing him *again*, it's a little too late for that now… He's had a taste, and he's ravenous for more.The two of you are a match made in hell, and you may just awaken the apocalypse.☆ Wherein you and Akira keep trying to hate each other despite your growing feelings, and Akira attempts to keep his devilhood a secret from you even as it presses and prods to come out and play ☆
Relationships: Fudo Akira & Reader, Fudo Akira/Reader, Fudo Akira/You
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	1. Deviled Eggs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You - yes, you - thanks for stopping by! Welcome to my humble story, pull up a seat *pats the perfect spot for you to read a little tale from*
> 
> I just saw the 2018 anime for the first time the other day (I know, late to the party), and just KNEW I had to write something.

* * *

You didn't start out hating Akira. Really, you didn't.

You'd even willingly picked him as your partner for a project - _the_ project - the one that counted for fifty percent of your total grade in the class you shared together. You went right up to him as he fidgeted awkwardly at his desk, looked over by everyone else clamoring to partner up with one another, and asked if he'd like to partner up with you. And sure, it wasn't exactly pure altruism that inspired the move; part of the reason why you did this was simply because he was smart, and because the alternative was picking one of the other guys lining up to partner with you, who were a.) Stupid, and b.) Just wanted to use this as an excuse to get up your skirt.

But regardless, he'd accepted, and had pulled in his share of the work, too. You knew he would - he was a good guy.

_Was._

Anyway.

You were totally going to pass this class, and with the college scholarship you were interested in, that meant everything. 

Except for one little thing. One little, itty bitty bit of fine print on this assignment you hadn't even been bothered to worry about until it was too late, because why would you? Akira was one of the school’s top students, and you surely weren’t about to screw this up.

You should have been worried.

Attendance of both group members in presenting the project to the class was absolutely, unwaveringly, set-in-stone _mandatory._

And that shy, crybaby bastard hadn't bothered to show up for class that day, of all days.

You failed the project, and therefore, you failed the class. You could kiss your hopes at that dream scholarship goodbye. 

You were going to _kill_ that asshole, regardless of what your dear friend Miki would think of you murdering the guy who was basically her brother.

No, literally - you were going to wring his scrawny neck until that annoying, good-hearted light faded from his teary, trembling eyes 

Only… his neck wasn't so scrawny the next time you saw him - when he actually _bothered_ to come to school again several days later.

Nor were his eyes those big, doleful things that used to be perfect windows into his pure little soul. His black lashes were longer and thicker somehow. And his eyes were darker. They were… sharp; dangerous obsidian arrowheads. Like his gaze might cut you if you looked at it for too long.

They were different.

_He_ was different. 

Huge, even. Little, scrawny Akira now had the body and overpowering presence of a badass - you'd have never believed it if you hadn't seen it for yourself. He was… a different person, almost. And undeniably sexy as hell, which just made you hate him even more, and made all the other girls finally pay attention to him.

_What the hell_ happened _to him?_

"Hey!" You'd screamed when you finally spotted him those several days later. "Akira!"

He'd glanced up from his phone in order to stare down the hall at you, apathy written on his every suddenly-handsome feature. 

That hallway was a war path, and you forged through it, stomping your way toward him with hands balled into fists at your sides. 

"Yeah?" He asked, not even trying to sound interested. 

You stormed right up to him and poked him repeatedly in his inexplicably broad, muscled chest. _God, his torso is like a brick wall. And when did he get so tall??_

"Where were you on Monday?!"

His eyes narrowed, and he snatched your wrist in one large hand to keep you from poking him further. "Around."

"Around?!" You practically shrieked up at him. "We failed our project thanks to you being _around?!?!_ "

"Will you simmer down?" He questioned, one dark, sculpted eyebrow arched as he regarded you like you were having some kind of hysterical meltdown. "It's just a project. It’s not like it’s the end of the world."

" _Just a project?!"_ Your eyes stung with prickles of warmth despite yourself, and you ripped your wrist free of his uncaring grasp. Great, now _you_ were the crybaby. "That _just a project_ cost me the only way I was getting into my dream college!"

He'd eyed you, his lips as flat as his regard. "Guess you better figure out plan B, then." 

And then the bastard's dark eyes had flittered away from your face, sinking down to take in the full view of you instead, his gaze trailing over your every curve without even a hint of decency. And he actually _gulped_ \- you saw it, saw his large adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. But he wasn’t nervous. He was something else. Something sweating with abrupt, newfound interest. "I can help you come up with a few alternatives," he purred suggestively. "But first I might need you to find a creative way of convincing me to help you."

You gawked up at him. _Who is this guy?! And what did he do with Akira?_

"I think I've had enough of your help _, thanks!_ "

"Relax,” he mused, his eyes never leaving you. They lingered on the gentle swells of your breasts, like he was taking his time to memorize their every detail, until you'd folded your arms across yourself and huffed at him. That brought his attention back to your face again - for a while, anyway. “There's more important things than a grade on a paper."

"Maybe to you, apparently!"

“You know, in light of a lot of new things in my life, my priorities have recently come into question."

You wanted to slap him, and you probably would have, if a sudden flock of fluttering, twitterpated schoolgirls hadn't arrived out of the blue to swarm him like it was time for a man-eating feeding frenzy.

"Akira!"

“Oh my god, he’s so _hot_ now _-_ did he get plastic surgery?”

“What’s his _deal?_ He was such a dork like _one second_ ago.”

“Do you wanna date me? Like, I didn't think you were that hot before, but–”

" _Akira_ , would you walk me home today pretty please?"

"No fucking way, you stupid slut! He's walking _me_ home, he already agreed! Right, Akira?"

Akira more or less ignored the herd of them, though he had a little self-satisfied smile on his face.

Your expression couldn’t have possibly gone flatter. _Ugh, that crybaby asshole has a fan club now?_

You were surprised they weren't all just throwing their panties at him, such was the stench of desperation. And seeing as how new-Akira was apparently a giant perv, he'd have probably loved it, too.

He didn’t exactly appear to hate all of the attention, and he barely spared you another glance. "Speaking of more important things," he brooded before sauntering off, hands casually stuffed in his pockets like he was just too cool to give a damn, his fan club rushing to keep up alongside his lanky footsteps.

You'd glared after him with so much hatred, you were genuinely surprised when two eyeball-sized holes didn't scorch through in the back of his head.

So you see, you didn't always hate Akira. But you sure as hell did now.

And as for why he hated _you_ , well… that might have something to do with how you'd thrown the disgusting, leftover deviled eggs from your lunch at him and his fanclub from a classroom window two stories up as the group of them flocked outside, about three minutes after the whole hallway incident. Especially since one particularly decent throw had stuck whipped and paprika'ed egg yolk to his perfectly shaped forehead, and riddled the back of his uniform in crumbles of the stuff that likely left it forever stained.

Sadly, there was no way of knowing for sure whether this invoked his disdain toward you. I mean, for all you knew, the guy _loved_ deviled eggs. But sufficeth to say, the two of you were in no way on friendly terms.

In fact, you’d taken to mumbling ‘asshole’ with _just_ enough inflection for him to actually hear it whenever the two of you crossed unfortunate paths, and he’d taken to openly glaring at you without responding, looking like he wanted to squeeze your neck until your head popped off your shoulders.

He'd become your arch nemesis. The thorn in your side. The bane of your existence.

And that brings you to today, one week after the hallway and deviled egg incidents.

The sun is shining, and you haven’t seen your disgustingly good-looking arch nemesis for a few days, seeing as how he keeps skipping school. And you hope he keeps on skipping it - forever, preferably, but you’ll settle for at least until the end of the year. 

Honestly, at this rate he’s going to be kicked off the track team with you and Miki due to his lacking attendance, and poor Miki is super antsy about it.

You have entirely different feelings on the matter. _Serves him right._

Miki invited you to spend the night at her place tonight, and normally you would’ve immediately pounced on the idea, but today you'd actually hesitated a second before accepting the offer, even though it sounded like fun - because it might also mean that you'd run into _him_ again. But you need to blow off some steam after the bombshell of utter failure in convincing your teacher to let you redo your project, and watching cheesy movies with Miki all night is a great way to do that.

Perhaps you guys are even having a little _too much_ fun, seeing as how you end up arguing over who's cuter in the second movie you’re barely watching in the background, which results in wielding pillows against one another in the battle over who has better cheekbones; blonde guy or red-head dude.

You two are tangled up in each other and trying not to pee yourselves laughing when Akira throws the door to Miki's bedroom open.

"What the hell is going on in–"

He’s wearing all black, and he freezes when his gaze settles on you, his eyes narrowing into ebony slits.

Okay, it's probably safe to say at this point that the man is not a fan of deviled eggs.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

He sounds almost as repulsed to see you there as you are to see him lingering tensely in Miki’s doorway, and you return his heated, inky gaze with a weaponized one of your own. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I live here,” he glowers as if he thinks you’re a moron.

"Guys…" Miki mutters, trying to form some kind of white-flagged middle ground - but the two of you steamroll right over her efforts.

You make a show of rolling your eyes. “I mean in this _room_ \- you didn’t even knock, what if we were naked?”

His interest perks at that, his little frown wavering, and his eyes roam over you momentarily like they had in the hallway a week ago. “So it’s _that_ kind of pillow fight, hm?” he wonders as a slow, subdued smile crosses his lips.

“Akira!” Miki butts in, louder this time, her eyebrows pulling into an aggravated knot. “Could you reign in being a pervert for just _one_ evening, please!”

“Am I invited to said naked pillow fight?” he questions instead, ignoring her. His sharpened obsidian eyes are very much on you, as is his devilish half-grin.

He stuffs one hand in the pocket of his slacks, and the overt confidence in his broad-shouldered demeanor has you faltering to come up with some kind of snarky comeback - which is as annoying as it is alarmingly disconcerting - but eventually you still manage to muster up a muttered, “Only if the pillow I pummel _you_ with is filled with bricks.”

He smirks - which isn’t exactly the reaction you were going for. “Kinky.” Leaning the sinewy forearm of his free hand against the doorway, he regards you with a hinted brow as one corner of his lips takes on an amused, knife-like point. “I don’t mind, for the record. If you wanted to get a little rough with me all you had to do was ask.”

For some reason the thought of being rough with him makes your heart skip a beat. 

Probably because of how much you hate him.

_Definitely_ because of how much you hate him.

“You're disgusting,” you nearly hiss at him.

He glowers, his fingers curling in on themselves. "Whatever. You are absolutely _no fun_ at _all._ "

"And you're an asshole!"

That cheeky smirk of his falters and falls flat. “And you’re a high horse riding, stick-up-your-ass, bitchy little shit.”

“Will you two knock it off already?!” Miki shouts, and the two of you fall into obedient, almost shame-faced silence at having upset her. The combination of both your hard heads and spiteful tempers is a volatile one, and difficult for either of you to have any sort of control over.

Akira stifles something suspiciously similar to a scoff, giving you one last quick look before turning his gaze on Miki. “Just keep it down, will you? I have homework to do and I can’t concentrate with the two of you screeching.”

“I thought homework and homework-related projects weren’t important enough for his majesty?” you drawl bitterly.

He glares at you before taking a step back and slamming the door shut without another word.

You and Miki stare after his retreating, stomping footfalls, each one rumbling the walls as if the man were a rampaging dragon, as you mutter, “Jeez, what’s _his_ problem?”

“Seriously?” Miki asks, eyes incredulously wide. “You! _You’re_ his problem!”

Your gaze whips over to her - you can barely believe what you’re hearing. “How is this _my_ fault?! He started it, and you know exactly how!”

Miki blows out an exasperated breath, massaging her temples with a thumb and forefinger. “You two are ridiculous. And you're both idiots.”

Your eyes narrow at her, and your lips pucker into a pout. “ _He’s_ the idiot. And c’mon, you can’t deny he’s been a total asshole lately. Ever since he got...” - _absurdly and oh-so-distractingly attractive -_ “...taller.”

Miki sighs again, and her expression softens into something verging on concerned. “Maybe _asshole_ isn’t exactly the word I’d use, but he’s definitely been exceptionally moody all week. It’s driving me completely crazy to be honest.”

“I’m surprised you’re not already crazy, living with a jerk like him.”

“Well he wasn’t like this until his run-in with you! You guys just rub each other the wrong way!”

“Ugh – _please_ don’t refer to me rubbing him in _any_ way.”

“That’s not what I – God, you guys are both perverts!”

You return your rankled attention to the movie still prattling on in the background whilst biting back some kind of catty retort to that, and eventually your aggravation slips off your shoulders. You and Miki fall into a debate about how the two of you would perform far better in a zombie apocalypse than the smooth-brained protagonist currently wavering around on screen, and you both cry out in over-indulgent horror when red-head dude gets torn to shreds by a horde of the undead. Blonde guy is then announced the official winner in the who-has-better-cheekbones competition by default.

You’re once again blissfully unaware of Akira Fudo’s existence, and all is right in the world. That is, at least, until you and Miki are called down for dinner, at which point you’re basically _forced_ into staring directly at the guy, seeing as how the two of you somehow end up sitting directly across from one another.

Ignoring him becomes your prime objective, though at one point you catch him sullenly eying you, and you actually choke on a noodle that decided in that moment to try and kill you. His curling smirk suggests he finds that funny, and you nearly throw your entire bowl of ramen across the dinner table at his head.

“How’s school going, you three?” Mr. Makimura asks conversationally.

Akira and yourself become suddenly very interested in stirring your food around, leaving Miki as official spokesperson, glancing between the both of you before offering up a little, “It’s alright,” from her slightly gritted, lying teeth.

“And how’s track?” Miki’s dad probes. He glances at Akira. “You break any more records this week?”

“Maybe a few,” Akira puts forth casually, not looking up from his bowl of brothy noodles, like he doesn’t even care that - as of this week, and this week alone - he’s now the fastest person on the team by far. Maybe even the fastest person to grace the team _ever_.

Too bad he’s probably going to be expelled or something for barely showing up.

Not that you care.

Because you don’t.

It just seems like a pity, is all - like a waste of perfectly good talent.

But, again - you don’t care _._

A trickle of cranberry juice runs down your lower lip while you’re distracted by this thought, and you put your glass down to quickly wipe it away with the back of one hand, only to see Akira watching you. You glare at him, of course, but he doesn’t glare back right away, nor does he avert his gaze. In fact, he seems quite fascinated; like wiping your mouth clean is the most engrossing thing in the entire world.

_Freak._

You go on ignoring him until a slippery, wayward noodle dangles down your chin after shoving in a particularly overlarge mouthful of ramen, and you have to slurp it back up. That’s when you hear him suck in a sharp breath, and your eyes catch on his. He’s _watching_ you again, and he looks… hungry. Like he wants to eat the food right out of your mouth or something. And it should be weird - it _is_ fucking weird - but it’s also inexplicably turning you on, that look he’s giving you. It’s depraved; a look you shouldn’t be giving someone with others present. Like he wants to throw you into the table, tear your clothes off, and devour _you_ for dinner.

You’re completely lost in that look. Like he’s some mythical creature that’s slowly turning you to stone with just that look alone.

“_____?” Mrs. Makimura’s hazy voice sounds like an echo, murky and from somewhere far away, barely heard in the distance. “_____? What did you think of Miki’s latest photoshoot?”

"Huh?' you ask, ripping your gaze away from Akira’s while blinking rapidly, cheeks a bit flush.

Miki’s mom repeats herself, and you automatically mumble something about Miki’s modeling being fantastic - as always - while nearly stuffing your face into your bowl of noodles in order to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks from the jerk sitting across from you.

You finish the rest of your food in a hurry, shoveling it all into your mouth like a woman starved, earning a few raised brows from Miki’s parents as you do.

“Wow, _____,” Mrs. Makimura muses with a small, uncertain smile. “Are you sure you don’t want seconds? You’re almost as bad as Akira.” She giggles. “Just what are they doing to you kids at that school of yours to make you all so hungry?”

When Miki finally and mercifully finishes her own dinner, you practically drag her back to her bedroom in an attempt to get as far away from whatever silent weirdness is developing between you and Akira as you possibly can.

But it isn’t long after holding up in what _should_ have been a safe space _away_ from that raven-haired bastard, that the raven-haired bastard raps a few times on the door before opening it up without waiting for a response.

He stands there, blatantly ignoring you, and you’re not entirely certain why that actually kind of bothers you. “Miki, can I borrow you for a second?”

Your friend tosses him a questioning look from where she’s situated on the bed, feet waving back and forth as she lays on her stomach and flips through a magazine. “Why? What’s up?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to elaborate in your presence, but finally he caves with a muttered, “I was just wondering if you’d help with this molecular bond nonsense my chemistry teacher threw at me last minute.”

“It was only last minute because you weren’t there when it was originally assigned,” Miki points out, and Akira lours at her.

“Will you help me or not?”

“I’m no good with that kind of stuff,” Miki shrugs, and then an idea seems to dawn on her. A truly diabolical one, from the looks of it, seeing as how she’s suddenly grinning ear to ear like a mischievous imp. 

She slips off the bed, pulls you up from your mess of pillows on the floor by the tv, and pushes you a stumbling step toward Akira standing in the doorway. “_____ is really good at chemistry, she’ll help you! Right, _____?”

“Wh-what?” you choke out. “I will?”

You meet Akira’s gaze, and he blinks at you a few times, his eyes going wide for some reason, and he takes a step back. “Nevermind - I got it.”

“You really aren’t in a position to fail assignments right now, Akira,” Miki underlines, pushing you forward as your steps stubbornly resist her advances. But soon she’s shoved you completely out of her bedroom, Akira sidestepping you lest Miki barrel you right into him. You barely catch yourself from falling face-first in the hallway before twisting around to glower at her, and she just smiles at the pair of you showering daggers at her.

“Don’t have too much fun!” she grins before slamming the door in both your faces.

Your first thought is to simply slip out into the night in opposition to helping Akira with _anything,_ other than with a one way trip to the ER anyway, but eventually you let out an aggravated breath and barely succeed in forcing yourself to look over at him. “Let’s just get this over with then, shall we?”

He looks slightly panicked, which catches you completely off guard, because this is normally where he’d be throwing you an overconfident, uncaring shrug or something. But he doesn’t. He avoids even looking at you, rubbing the back of his neck while nibbling at the plush of his lower lip like he's going to bite it right off his face.

Suddenly he pivots away from you, like he can’t stand even the _possibility_ of catching sight of you - and then he’s lumbering off down the hall.

“Fine,” he grumbles, surrendering while already heading up the stairs to his bedroom, taking them two at a time without effort. “Just explain this nonsense and get back to your slumber party. And don’t _touch_ anything.”

You roll your eyes as he's lost from view, before wandering slowly after him. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deviled eggs for the Devilman. That’s some culinary justice.
> 
> I live for comments, so let me know what you thought of this chapter :3
> 
> I’m cooking up the other chapters as we speak, but I’ve got a lot of WIPs right now so it’ll be a minute
> 
>   
> 


	2. Study Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Akira try not to turn a study session into a bloodbath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add a chapter to the overall chapterness, because this one became too long. So I've already written the second part but I’m gonna clean it up a bit before posting - but I’m eeeexxxcciiittteeeedddd!!

* * *

He doesn’t exactly extend you a cordial invitation into his bedroom, not that you’d expected to receive one.

He’s already somewhere inside by the time you reach the top of the stairs, but the door’s ajar, and there’s a sliver of light there to greet you. And with the way the two of you go about making life difficult for one another, a barely open doorway is about as good of an invitation as any. Because were you not being forced into helping him right now, that door would surely be padlocked and possibly nailed shut at the prospect of you stopping by. 

Tonight, it’s open - just a sliver, just for you. 

You slip inside to see he’s already sitting at his desk, black-clad broadness of his shoulders turned to you as he hunches over whatever it is that's more deserving of his attention than the presence of you, his nose practically glued to what you suspect is a textbook.

“Ahem,” you say as way of announcing your arrival. And hey, it isn’t the ‘you’re kind of an asshole, you know that?’ you _feel_ like saying, so that’s a step in the right direction as far as this study session not devolving into some kind of slappy fistfight, right? 

Maybe the two of you are trying to keep things from escalating to world war three status, after all. 

He holds up one finger as if to shush you without a glance, as you’re apparently still not worthy of his full attention.

_Okay, nah - he’s still an ass._

You know he knows you’re there, but even as you wander up alongside him he still doesn’t look at you. He just unglues his nose from his chemistry book enough to point with repeated aggravation at the current page. “This,” he emphasizes with another, accusatory poke. “This doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“Maybe not to you,” you can’t stop yourself from muttering, and you see the muscles lining the back of his neck tense up.

“Every time you open your mouth,” he grumbles into his textbook. “I’m reminded of why its preferred state is sealed the fuck shut. Maybe you could keep that in mind the next time you feel like being a snark little shit.”

Your pursed and parted lips likely give away how scandalized you are for him to come right out of the gate like that, so it’s a good thing he’s not actually able to witness it, seeing as how he still refuses to meet your gaze.

“Well excuse you, asshole,” you say. “How am I supposed to help you comprehend the incomprehensible if I can’t unseal my mouth?” You roll your eyes, not that he could see it. “It’s not my fault you need someone holding your hand in order to get homework done.”

“I _don’t_ ,” he throws back at you. “I just don’t get this stuff. And only an ungodly freak like you ever would. You probably get off to it. In fact, you can borrow my chemistry book when we’re done here if you want. I know you'd love to hump your pillow while salivating over it.”

_Question: should I strangle Akira Fudo to death right now? His back is turned… he wouldn’t see it coming…_

“Maybe I should have brought some crayons up here so you could outline chemical bond structures on the walls like a goddamn toddler,” you say in lieu of wringing his neck. “It’s probably the only way you’d understand what you’re looking at.”

“And maybe I shouldn’t have given you any kind of excuse in thinking you could possibly teach anyone _anything_ without them throwing themselves face first through the nearest window.”

“Is that your way of admitting you’re too stupid to learn anything?”

“ _No,_ it’s my way of saying you’re a self entitled brat who thinks she’s better than everyone else!”

“Well then,” you mutter, eyes narrowed into spiteful slits. “As much fun as this little study session has been, I think I’d rather shove hot coals up my own rectum than spend another second trying to help you.”

You turn on heel from him hunched over his desk, fully intent on making a grand spectacle of storming out, only to hesitate and nearly stumble instead as he calls after you. 

“Wait, _____...”

You blink back at him, not entirely certain you heard that last part correctly. 

He’s finally looking at you, his eyes taking hold of yours, and his face gradually twists into some sort of conflicted scowl. “At least help me with this one chapter.”

You don’t say anything, and he studies you for a moment before adding, “I’ll tell Miki you said she looks fat in her latest photoshoot if you don’t.”

Your already shocked expression falters a bit more. What, is he _blackmailing_ you now?

Battling aside your bewilderment enough to skeptically eye him, you have to wonder if he’s bluffing or not. Or if it’d even work - it seems like a pretty desperate move. 

And since when is fanclub-wielding Akira Fudo desperate?

“You really think she’d fall for that?”

“With this endearing face?” He speculates, lifting one brow as if to emphasize just how devilishly appealing he is. “Yeah. She’ll buy it. I’m not above crying while I tell her, either.”

Okay, that’s just fucked up. And it would totally work.

You bite at your lip to keep from immediately accusing him of being every foul thing under the sun - which doesn’t change the fact that he is - and his eyes follow the movement of your mouth as if magnetized to it. 

You stop biting your lip the second you notice this. “Fine,” you grumble at last, trying your best to ignore his fascination with you as you fold your arms and saunter back over to his desk. “You win. I’ll help. Just keep your insults and creepy staring to a minimum.” 

When he finally gets enough of a grip on himself to catch you glowering at him, he forces a sullen stare over whatever memorization was there before it, followed by ripping his distracted attention away from the shape of your lips entirely.

He turns to the homework atop his desk again, and his hands curl over the sides of his chemistry book as he silently reads over the current page like he’s going to tear it in half or something; like he’s too tense to contain himself and ripping apart his poor textbook is the only outlet available to him. And normally that wouldn’t exactly bother you, other than it being just another super weird thing about Akira Fudo, but given just how mystifyingly muscle-bound he is nowadays, he may actually be able to rip right through the damn thing. 

And you probably shouldn’t care about that, either, but you find yourself reaching over to yank the book from him anyway, attempting to pry it from his way-too-strong fingers, like why haven’t you been able to rip it away from him already, like just _drop the goddamned book already you super-strong freak–_

“Give it here!” you finally yap at him, and his dark eyes narrow at you before he stubbornly relinquishes it.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “have at it. Let the teaching begin. My mind is at your mercy.” 

“You know ripping your homework to shreds won’t make it any less due in the morning, right? And it isn’t going to help you understand any of this, either.” 

“Just get to the teaching part,” he says, shifting one of his long, track-toned legs around the seat of his chair so that he’s straddling it, facing you while his arms fold over the backrest. He gives you one of his haughty once-overs that makes you simultaneously infuriated and flustered. “I don’t need a lecture.”

Taking the book you rescued from being strangled to death by him with you, you wander over to the bed, plopping down to sit so you can skim over what it is exactly that thick skull of his can’t seem to understand. 

And as you do, Akira lowers his chin to rest along one of his forearms so he can get a nice, comfy viewpoint from which to ogle you.

You don’t know for certain that’s what he’s doing, not right away at least, though every hair on the back of your neck stands on end at just the _idea_ of him drinking in the sight of you. At which point your eyes flick up from the page you were reading to confirm your suspicions, while a rather condemning scowl tugs your lips.

Yup, totally ogling you. His greedy eyes are raking over every little piece of you as his brows form a wistful crease.

And you mean to immediately chastise him for trailing his interest over you one too many times, but that rapacious glint in his gaze lodges something in your throat instead. 

He catches you staring at him, and together you stare, both of you tongue-tied and unable to look away.

Until he smirks, anyway - just a little smirk, more friendly and curious than cocky, but it still sends prickles of warmth across your face and an overly-panicked fluttering in your heart. 

You tear the chemistry book from your lap, holding it in front of your face, like it isn’t awkward _at all_ to read such a heavy volume that way. But now you don’t have to look at his stupid face any longer, or be distracted by its stupid handsomeness, or his stupid muscled shoulders or tapered waist or - 

You clear your throat, focusing on the task at hand, namely the heavy book in your face.

_Okay. Much better._

_Now say something to distract him from how weird you must look right now._

“This is talking about intermolecular forces,” you forcibly ruminate, skimming over the page held inches from your face. “It’s simple stuff, really. What’s not to understand?”

“All of it,” Akira whines from where he’s hidden in the background. “Just start from square one.”

_Great, this is going to take all night._

With a sigh, you drop the book back into your lap because it’s getting pretty heavy to use as a shield against him. “Well there are differing types of intermolecular forces, but this chapter’s focusing on ionic and hydrogen bonding...” 

You glance up to see if he’s listening, only to find his attention trailing over the length of exposed skin on your crossed legs. And he’s focused, alright, _very_ focused; just not on anything coming out of your mouth.

“Eyes up here, fuckhead,” you grouse, and his interest flits back up to your face.

“What?”

“You’re totally going to fail this class,” you grumble at him, fingers curling around the edges of the book like _you_ want to tear it in half now. “Not that you wouldn’t deserve it for bailing on me like you did the other day.”

One large hand wrings back through his mess of unruly, black hair, and he seems to restrain an eyeroll. “Are you _ever_ going to let that go?” he wonders carelessly.

The bitterness in your gaze fractures and spills over, making your voice rise with every word as you argue, “Maybe if you actually _apologized!_ ”

“Apologize for what? Opening your future up to better options?”

“At this point I’d settle for an apology for _anything_ , you insufferable jerk!”

He actually seems to consider this, and after a moment’s pause his lips part as if he’s about to say something. And for half a second you think he might actually cough up some barely mustered ‘I’m sorry’ for everything he’s put you through.

But then he just scoffs instead, eyes hard as crude-cut gems as he meets your dislike for him head on. “I had a lot of stuff going on that day,” he mutters thoughtlessly while casting his gaze aside, like the blank section of wall beside him is far more interesting than you are. 

“What kind of stuff?” you ask, and the sharpness of it is weighted by a bit of your own genuine curiosity.

He probably picks up on that, because his regard returns to you, and he studies you for a while without offering an explanation. 

When he finally _does_ speak, it's a muttered and glowering, “the kind that’s none of your business.”

_Alright, that’s it._

You huck the book at his head, and he barely ducks in time to avoid it flying right into his face.

“Hey!” he loudly complains as you throw yourself off the bed.

“Figure out your own damn homework!” you huff at him. “Or _don’t_ \- I don’t care!” 

You stomp off toward the door, and are reaching for the handle when his hand suddenly closes around your opposite wrist.

He spins you around before you even realize he’d followed you, tugging you back a step until you’re basically standing in his shadow. “Look,” he mutters, clearly struggling with something as you blink up at him in bewilderment. You’re honestly so confused as to what he could possibly be chasing after you for that you don’t even pull your hand away from his grip.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

_Wait - hold up - what was that now?_

“I didn’t mean to derail any future goals you have or whatever.”

You should probably just take his ill-formed apology for what it is and get the hell out of there, but your feet stay solidly in place, and you hear yourself wondering instead, “then why _did_ you?”

Slowly, his expression closes off. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me,” you counter, searching his face. “And after what it cost me, I think I deserve some kind of an explanation.”

His dark brows form an irritated crease. “You still think this is all about _you,_ don’t you? That’s all you care about.”

“I’m literally trying to figure out what’s going on with _you_ ,” you counter with just as much vehemence. “So why don’t you stop beating around the bush and just tell me what the hell is going on with you lately?”

His gaze drips disdain down at you. “Like you actually care.”

“ _I do care!_ ” you shout without meaning to, and are taken aback by just how much you mean it. 

In fact, you _really don’t like_ how much you actually mean it. Dammit, you _care_ about this jerk. It makes you feel entirely too vulnerable to admit. 

_Is it too late to say just kidding?_

You twist your hand out of his grip, glowering up at him. “I’m leaving. Tell Miki whatever you want.”

You open the door when he suddenly takes your waist from behind with both hands, flipping you around and pushing your back into the door until it sinks closed behind you again with a low, latching _click_. 

Barely managing to swallow back your abrupt confusion, you gawk up at him as his fingers dig into your sides, and his eyes bore down at you with such a shattered look of hunger it nearly dives into your bones.

“Stay,” he says, and you’re not sure if he’s ordering or asking.

Whatever he’s doing, it’s making it difficult for you to breath, and you can’t seem to tear your gaze away from him. “Akira…”

He doesn’t wait for you to form some kind of an excuse or escape plan. He just closes the distance between the two of you, your stomachs pressed together as he leans down to sink his lips into yours. He kisses you with so much fervency he may as well have been starving. It’s like something perfectly natural, overly rehearsed - he must have been envisioning doing this all night.

And this, right here, is probably the point where you should pull away, or slap him, or kick him in the gut, or _something_ other than what you end up doing. Because what you end up doing is making a little noise of surprise, blinking rapidly a few times, until the warmth of his lips and the pull of his musk just kind of _melts_ you, and before you know it you’re kissing him back - like a complete fucking idiot _._

Yup, getting involved with your best friends basically adopted, moody as hell brother whom you hate more than anything is a _great_ idea.

His body backs yours further into the door with a soft _thud,_ as his free hand snakes up the back of your neck, pulling you closer while his lips urge yours to part for him. And when they do he can’t hold back a shudder that runs through his whole body. 

His fingers tangle almost painfully in your hair as his tongue delves deep inside your mouth, mapping every piece, claiming every bit of warmth as his.

He seems lost to some overpowering impulse, and perhaps he’s not the only one. Because even though you hate him, you're drawn by some thoughtless desire to _feel_ him, and one of your hands tugs at the hem of his black tee as if to pull him even closer to you. 

Your fingers spill under the fabric as your kiss deepens, splaying out along the smooth, muscled texture of his stomach.

A breath catches in his throat as your hand roams up to his chest, one he sucks back while jerking his mouth away from yours. He grabs your wrist to pull you off of him, biting down on some strangled noise like that of a cornered animal. He bites down on whatever it is so harshly his lip spills a trickle of blood, and his dark eyes are strained, as if your touch is torture.

You gasp when you see the ribbon of blood running down his chin, your eyes growing wide with concern. “Akira, you…!?”

He doesn’t respond, or wait for you to finish your flabbergasted thought, and if you didn’t know any better you’d swear his eyes had transformed into mirrors of white light for just a moment. You don’t have enough time to verify just how badly you might be hallucinating right now before he reaches around you, fumbling for the knob at the door while at the same time hoisting you away from it; just enough to rip the door open and shove you hastily outside.

You barely manage to catch yourself from falling ass-backward on the floor outside his bedroom as the door slams loud and deafening, directly in your startled face. 

You hear the lock slide shut, and then there's nothing but silence as you stare in incomprehension through the relative darkness. Stare at the closed and locked door before you, your breathing heavy and your cheeks flushed, while you blink a few times and try to wrap your head around what exactly just happened.

Akira kissed you.

That bastard _kissed_ you.

And then the second you reciprocated, he threw you aside. Forced you the hell out. Like you meant nothing at all.

Something clenches every one of your heartstrings together, tying them all into painful knots. Just what kind of sick game is playing? And how big of an idiot are you for falling right into it?

 _He probably didn’t even mean that sorry excuse for an apology he spouted off,_ some wounded part of you assures. _And even if he did, he’s still an asshole._

You glare at the darkened, closed-off doorway as if it had personally offended you, before shouting through it, “you can suck my entire ass, Akira Fudo!” 

You don’t care if you wake up Miki’s parents. Normally you would, but you can’t be bothered by it now. All you see is red, and all you feel is whatever that annoying, throbbing pain in your chest is. 

And then you storm off back to Miki’s room, grumbling more obscenities under your breath as your ears burn with so much humiliation they must be expelling a trail of actual fumes behind you, like coils of smoke off an angry dragon. 

You didn’t think you could avoid Akira Fudo any more than you already were before that, but oh, how wrong you were. 

Avoiding and hating him just upgraded itself from a side objective to your sole purpose in life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of smuttiness in this one - don't worry, I'm throwing you the fuck off the deep end in a minute
> 
>   
> 


End file.
